


what they deserve (it's better this way)

by sobsicles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 coda, Don't Judge Me, Fix-it fic, I hope this helps whoever reads it, M/M, also yes I take little jabs at the finale, and dean fucking reciprocates, cas baby this is the ending you should have gotten I'm so sorry, cas being an awkward angel in love is my jam, codas have been getting me through this so I figured I'd give my input too, fuck you dabb, not me writing this in like an hour out of pure rage and a desperate need for relief, they all deserved better and that's just a fact, yes Dean and cas fucking kiss, yes I had to do something to fix that fucking finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobsicles/pseuds/sobsicles
Summary: Dean and Castiel have some unfinished business. Heaven is as good enough of a place to settle it as any.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 241
Kudos: 1481





	what they deserve (it's better this way)

**Author's Note:**

> me @ the finale: I'm uncomfortable with the energy we've created in the studio tonight, and so I will simply ✨fix it✨ 
> 
> Everyone deserved better.

Time is different here. 

Castiel is very sure that he's only been here a second and also an eternity before the emptiness doesn't feel so empty anymore. He's also pretty sure he was taking a forced nap, actually, but he doesn't remember falling asleep. He wonders what's waking him up now. 

It's Jack. When Castiel turns to look, there he is. He looks calm and carefree, looking around at the void with a serene expression. 

"Jack," Castiel greets readily, already moving forward for a hug that feels like the essence of familiarity. 

"Castiel," Jace replies easily, hugging him back with a small laugh. A giggle—almost child-like. 

Castiel pulls back to look at him, searching the curve of his eyes and the lift of his cheek. He looks happy. Peaceful. "What are you doing here?" 

"I'm here for you," Jack says. He looks chagrined for a split second, then he shakes his head. "I'm supposed to be hands-off about all of this, but—but you can be my exception. I was always yours." 

"Hands-off?" Castiel echoes. 

Jack nods. Smiles, just a little. "It hasn't been too long, but you've missed...a lot. Chuck retired, you could say, and I've...taken the job." 

Castiel pauses, processing that, then he squints. "Your career is now…" 

"Remember that world I showed you before I was born?" Jack raises a hand and awkwardly waves it a little, like he can encompass the earth neither of them are on right now. "Well, I did it." 

"Ah." Castiel takes another long moment to deal with that. There's a faint flutter of vindication in his chest, but it's tinged with something sad. Jack was never supposed to be just about that, not after all he sacrificed and went through. Castiel always wanted more for him, but he understands all too well how things rarely go as one wants. He nods. "And now?" 

Jack takes a deep breath, inhaling slowly, and then he exhales with a broad smile. "Now? Well, I could use your help with...reconstruction that's long overdue. I figured you'd have an idea of what Heaven should look like, right?" 

"I…" Castiel trails off, considering that, then he smiles. "Right." 

And so, they go. 

* * *

Not even  _ half of an hour.  _

Castiel is beyond furious. They've just gotten Heaven where it was meant to be all along. For others, it feels like years and seconds. Bobby says that Heaven is home in short snapshots, long stretches of roads that can go by in a blink of an eye and a home on land that exists for decades. Mary visits and says she feels like she only saw him a second ago, though she's had years alone with John. Time has never been linear, and it's even less so in Heaven where everything joyful exists all at once. 

But, still, it hasn't been that long by  _ earth standards,  _ and Castiel is infuriated about it. Jack watches him pace the comfy carpet with dinosaurs on it—they move because it's entertaining for Jack, and  _ technically  _ this is his office, even if it looks like a child's room. Letting a three-year-old have the power of almighty comes with a lot of scattered toys around what used to be a white wasteland of emotionless angels in suits. Castiel is very sure that Naomi would have hated it, and the thought often amuses him. 

He's not very amused now, however. Jack can tell. He looks calm, watching Castiel visibly stomp on the moving dinosaurs without complaint. For him, he's as hands-off as he can be. Castiel, however, has made no such promises. 

"It would only take a second," Castiel declares, whirling around to stare at Jack with what he  _ knows  _ is a pleading expression. For others, it feels like they've been here for years and seconds, but for them...it's been  _ less than an hour.  _ "I could—" 

"No," Jack cuts in, sighing quietly. "Castiel, we can't interfere. I can't allow you to." 

Castiel brings his hands together in front of him, seeking any semblance of calm. "Jack, I could be in and out in just a second. I'd only need to touch him to heal him. He's—Jack, he's  _ dying."  _

"I know," Jack murmurs. 

"He hasn't had enough time," Castiel insists. "They've only  _ just  _ won and found peace. He doesn't deserve this.  _ Sam  _ doesn't deserve this. You know it's wrong, Jack. You  _ know  _ it is." 

Jack nods, just once. "I know," he repeats. 

"And you'll do nothing?" Castiel asks in a rough growl,  _ beyond  _ frustrated. Nothing has ever stopped him from doing everything to save Dean Winchester before, and now his son is somehow  _ managing to.  _

"I'll do nothing," Jack agrees. "It's not my story. It's his. Whether the ending is...good or not, we can't do anything to change it. We can only hope that good will come from it in some way." 

Castiel  _ feels  _ his nostrils flare. "Then let  _ me  _ change it. Jack, I could go for just a second. I  _ died  _ for him, for his life, and  _ this  _ is how—no. It's a piece of rebar in his back from a fight against  _ vampires  _ wearing masks! Why isn't Sam calling an ambulance? Dean has survived worse! He  _ can  _ survive this." 

Jack looks away for a second, off into the middle distance, then he frowns. "He's fading." 

"Send me," Castiel demands. Orders. _Begs._

"No," Jack replies simply, blinking. "You'll see him again soon. It's okay, Castiel. He'll like the Heaven you've helped create." 

Castiel closes his eyes, clenching his jaw as he looks away. Quietly, he asks, "What about Sam? Will he be alright with Dean gone?" 

"That's up to him." 

"Jack, you would have done differently before." 

"Yes," Jack agrees. He tilts his head, just a little, when Castiel opens his eyes to look. He resembles Castiel more than he ever has anyone else. "I made a promise to do it better. Not just for everyone, but for them. I do not think Dean would want me to interfere. He seems at peace with it." 

"Of  _ course  _ he does," Castiel snaps. "He's given everything for this world, and he so rarely believes himself deserving of a happy ending. Peace, for him, was not an option he ever entertained. He expected it to come with death, so he naturally believes he is ready because the world no longer needs him to save it. He deserves _ better, _ Jack!" 

Jack blinks. "Oh. Well, too late now." 

"Already?" Castiel asks, dismayed instantly. He snaps up straight, heart in his throat. "He's—" 

"Talking to Bobby, now," Jack confirms. His gaze softens as he looks at Castiel. "Sam's met someone."

"Has he?" Castiel asks softly. "Is he okay?" 

"Sad. Mourning." Jack looks off into the middle distance again, unblinking and frowning. "He named his son Dean." 

"And Dean?" Castiel checks. 

Jack flicks his gaze to the left by just an inch, then chuckles quietly. "Taking a drive." 

"Of course," Castiel mutters, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Is Sam happier yet?" 

"He's not going to be, I don't think," Jack muses, looking unhappy about it. "He loves his family. Through the years, he finds contentment, or he's starting to. He certainly looks...older." 

"He deserves better," Castiel says, and it seems to be all he  _ can  _ say. "Dean never got to meet his nephew."

Jack sighs and glances at him. "He will. Sam will be happy to see his son whenever he arrives. I know they deserve better, but I promised not to interfere. It won't be long before everyone will be reunited again. They'll have peace and joy here." 

"All they did for the world, and...this," Castiel murmurs, glancing down at the carpet with a faint frown. A T-Rex runs past his shoe. 

"Ah," Jack says, looking off to the right again, his eyebrows raising. "Sam should have cut his hair." 

Castiel looks up, blinking. "He doesn't?" 

"No," Jack says with a wince. 

"And Dean?" 

"Still driving." 

"The other one. Sam's son." 

"Oh. His hair is long, too." 

"No, Jack, I mean—" Castiel takes another deep breath, then slowly lets it out. "Is Sam's son okay? Is he happy?" 

"At the moment, no," Jack admits. He frowns when Castiel visibly flinches. "Sam is dying." 

_ "Already?"  _ Castiel protests in a snarl, feeling as if he's been hit in the chest by something heavy. Perhaps he, too, has been stabbed in the back by an overgrown, rusty spike. 

Jack looks to the left, still staring off in the distance, and now he looks faintly amused. "Dean's Heaven requires his family, so time has adjusted around his parameters to fit. By the time he stops driving, Sam will be here. That's why it seems so quick, but Sam gets to live a very long life." 

"Okay," Castiel says, nodding jerkily. That makes sense. At least  _ one  _ of them gets to live a long life, even if they both deserved it, even if Sam probably spends a lot of his time grieving. 

"You should go see Dean," Jack suggests, almost pointed about it, a gentle nudging. "Before he gets to the bridge, at least." 

Castiel has never wanted to do anything less. He looks away. "He should be with Sam." 

"Yes, but you should be there as well." 

"I was never meant to be there. I was thankful for what I had, but I'm aware that it was all I would be allowed. Sam and Dean will have their peace, and that is all I ever wanted for them." 

"Castiel," Jack says in gentle reproach, looking at him in scolding disapproval, like Castiel is the child and not the parent. "That's not—" 

"I'm not a part of it, Jack," Castiel cuts in ruthlessly, straight to the point, refusing to allow that hope to swell within him. "I am happy to be here with you."

"Not entirely," Jack murmurs. 

Castiel glances at him, then away. He doesn't deny it. There is no point, because Jack is all-knowing now. Instead, he tells a hard truth, one Jack may need to hear nonetheless. "I am all too familiar with not being fully happy. I've...perfected it." 

"You should not have to." 

"This is not a Heaven for me." 

"Heaven is for everyone within it." 

"I'm an employee." 

"You are  _ family,"  _ Jack says, stepping forward to stare at him with incredibly tender eyes and the saddest little frown on his face. He looks so upset. 

"It's not the same," Castiel whispers hoarsely, because it isn't. It never was and never will be. He shakes his head. "It does not matter, Jack. I am complacent and comfortable, and that is more than I could have asked for. How are they? Is Sam here?" 

Jack sighs at the obvious subject change. "Yes, Sam has arrived. He and Dean are on a bridge that is significant to them in some way. They're watching the water together." 

"Good," Castiel says softly, pleased. 

"Dean is—oh!" Jack blinks rapidly and his head snaps towards Castiel, lips spreading into a large grin. "Castiel, do not be alarmed." 

Castiel very much  _ is  _ alarmed. There's a non-existent hook in his chest, tugging sharply within him, like the first flap of wings for flight. He feels as if he's about to be yanked right off his feet, and it is not a sensation that he approves of at all. 

"What's—" 

He doesn't get much farther before he is rather promptly popped out of existence for a split second and deposited back on his feet in some new, unidentified location. He blinks down at himself in bemusement, staring at the white gravel crunching beneath his shoes. He was just standing on carpet homing dinosaurs, and now… 

"Cas?" 

Head snapping up, Castiel stares at the two figures approaching him. In the distance, on a bridge, Baby rests innocuously, pristine and shiny. Castiel himself stands off the bridge, on the outskirts, and he has the feeling that the bridge is not where he is meant to be. It is not for him. 

It's for  _ them.  _ For Sam and Dean, who are steadily walking away from the bridge without much hesitation. They're coming right for him at a leisurely stroll, as if they have all the time in the world, and Castiel wants to fly away. He should not be here. He does not  _ want  _ to be here. 

Dean is as beautiful as ever, though. He looks so  _ peaceful.  _ He looks as he should have on earth, as he earned, as he never got. Dean's eyes are trained on him, fixed there with strange intensity, and Castiel cannot meet that gaze for very long. Of all the human emotions he's come to learn and experience, embarrassment remains to be the worst. He would rather be in agony than have to face the man he confessed his love to after the fact. 

Sam is easier to look at, so that is who Castiel focuses on. He's young here, at the age when he feels most like himself, just as everyone is. Tall, with long hair, eyes wiser from more years on earth, and there's that easy smile that's always,  _ always  _ warm and comforting. Castiel has missed his friend, and it feels as if he only saw him yesterday. Because of the fluctuating tangle of time, that is simultaneously false as well as true. 

"You're here," Sam greets, sounding relieved. 

"Hello, Sam," Castiel replies, because he can't  _ not.  _ That would be rude. He pauses anyway, hesitant, then forces himself to continue. He cannot be held responsible for how his voice softens as he says what he does next. "Hello, Dean." 

Sam beams at him. "So, Heaven, huh? I'm glad you're here. Did Jack…" 

"His only interference," Castiel admits, a pulse of warmth in his chest at the memory. "He used the excuse that he needed help with the reconstruction of Heaven. I was happy to provide my input." 

"This is your doing?" Sam asks, circling his finger to encompass both the bridge and Heaven as a whole. 

Castiel keeps his gaze resolutely on Sam as he sheepishly admits, "Partially. Not specific locations, no, but the feeling and memory you have with them. This bridge...meant something to you. Both of you. That is why you are here." 

Sam bobs his head, visibly impressed. "Makes sense. Good job, man." 

"I have not worked out why  _ I  _ am here," Castiel murmurs, narrowing his eyes. This could be Jack's fault, though he had promised not to interfere. 

"Well, whatever the reason, we're glad you're here, Cas," Sam says cheerfully. He looks to the right, raising his eyebrows. "Right, Dean?" 

Dean has been quiet this whole time, and Castiel doubts he has very much he feels secure in saying. Heaven is eternal. How does one coexist with the man who gave his life after a love confession, all for you, especially when you do not feel the same way? For  _ eternity?  _ Castiel almost pities Dean, but not nearly as much as he's mortified with himself. 

"Actually, uh…" Dean trails off, and in the silence, Castiel risks a quick glance at him. It's a mistake, he realizes instantly, because Dean is already looking at him. Their eyes  _ lock,  _ and Castiel is trapped immediately, unable to look away just as he's failed so many times before on earth. Dean's eyes light up in response, lips curling up.  _ "Actually,  _ I'm the reason you're here, Cas." 

Castiel wants to run away, but he refrains because he has some dignity left. "Why?" 

"Bobby sort of hinted that you were here," Dean says slowly, seeming to really think about what he's saying. "I figured I'd find you after I took a drive. Sam showed up pretty quick, though, so we had our little chick flick moment." 

"Of course," Castiel murmurs, fond and amused despite himself. He doesn't tell Dean that Sam made it here so soon because of Dean's sheer force of will that his happiness include his little brother. It warms his heart, just the same, especially the way Dean just brushes it aside like he can't even be vulnerable in Heaven. Some things never change. 

"Right." Dean clears his throat and reaches up to scratch at his cheek, still looking right at Castiel with something like determination, as if he's  _ forcing  _ himself to not look away. The thought is disheartening, but Castiel is thankful for it anyway, always quietly pleased to simply be seen by Dean. And he is, now, wholly. "Just, ya know,  _ after  _ we got all the brother stuff out of the way, I was just thinking that, um… Well, I wanted you here, too. So I just—I prayed to you, man. You didn't hear it?" 

"I did not," Castiel says, frowning. "I was in the middle of a conversation with Jack." 

"How is he?" Sam asks, voice softening. 

Castiel hums. "Very good. He's been busy. It's been less than an hour since he retrieved me from the Empty, by the time constraints here." 

"Really?" Sam blurts out, surprised. 

"Yes." Castiel is still looking at Dean, but now he allows his annoyance to shine through. "That means, Dean, that you died less than an hour after I did. Do you have  _ any  _ idea how—" 

"Woah, woah," Dean interrupts quickly, raising his hands in surrender, "it ain't my fault, Cas. You think I planned it? That shit  _ hurt.  _ I was scared, dude." 

Castiel breaks the locked gaze, looking away with a huff. "Yes, I know. Jack informed me. I asked him to allow me to...stop by and heal you, but he would not allow me to interfere." 

"You tried to save me?" Dean asks, tone subdued and soft.  _ "Again? _ Even from here? 

"Of course," Castiel answers, borderline offended as he snaps his gaze back to Dean's. 

"That would have been nice," Sam says, grimacing just a little. He sighs and shrugs awkwardly, as if he can let old grief roll right off his back. "But I guess… Well, I get why he didn't. He promised he wouldn't, so if makes sense for him to—" 

"Sammy," Dean cuts in, "shut up for a second." 

Sam blinks. "What?" 

Dean had sounded  _ serious,  _ and he looks it still when he takes a deep breath and steps forward. "Cas, what you said to me before you—you—" 

"Dean," Castiel interrupts hastily, his stomach automatically quivering with nerves, "there is no need to revisit the—" 

"You never let me fucking  _ finish."  _ Dean huffs and tosses up a hand, shaking his head. "No wonder it took twelve fucking  _ years.  _ Cas, buddy, I'm gonna need you to shut up and listen, capiche?" 

Castiel sighs and says, "I capiche, Dean." 

"I'm not gay," Dean says, first thing, and Castiel would cringe if he could get his face to move a muscle at all. Sam coughs violently and takes a solid step back, looking skyward. Dean, not even batting an eye, continues, "but you're the love of my fucking life, Cas. Like, you know, the one or whatever. I never thought—I mean, I figured angels can't even  _ feel  _ things like that, but I shoulda known because you were shit at being a normal angel anyway. Part of the reason I love you, I guess. But, the point is, you had  _ no right  _ doing what you did to me. Come on, the love confession was  _ a lot  _ to deal with anyway, but dying right after? Fuck you, man." 

"I—excuse me?" Castiel bursts out, tripping over his words in a way he  _ never _ does. He doesn't get words wrong, but this might be the first time he can't properly string a sentence together to match up with his turbulent thoughts. 

"I miss my wife," Sam says to no one. 

Dean jabs a finger at Cas, pursing his lips a little like he does when he's trying not to cry. "Excuse  _ you,  _ actually. I didn't even get to—I never got to say anything  _ back,  _ and then I had to go on and actually  _ be  _ happy because that's what you wanted for me. Do you know how hard it is to force yourself to do life and be happy while you're at it when the stupid fucking angel you've been in love with for half your goddamn life  _ died  _ for you? Do you know how disrespectful it would have been if I lost my damn mind and went off the deep end? I  _ had  _ to be okay, because you fucking forced my hand. So, yes, fuck you, and also  _ come here."  _

Castiel does not want to go over there. He wants to run away, actually. He wants to go back to the Empty, maybe, though he doubts it would take him back at this point. He's caused it too much trouble. In any case, he'd like very much to just pop out of existence again, and he frantically calls out Jack's name in his mind, very distressed. 

But of course Jack does not save him, because Jack doesn't  _ interfere, _ and Castiel is going to have a long talk with him about the repercussions of that later. For now, he stays very still like he can just melt away if he tries hard enough, but it's not  _ working.  _

He hasn't ever actually considered the possibility that Dean  _ reciprocates.  _ It has just never been an option for him. He just knows—knew?—that Dean would not and could not feel the same, and he'd made peace with that a long time ago. Dean's love has never been a requirement for Castiel's. 

That being said, reciprocation is...something. Castiel decides very quickly that he does not like it. His body has not been a vessel for a long,  _ long  _ time, but he suddenly wants to offer it up to literally anyone else just to escape it because it's betraying him now. His eyes are burning, and his chest feels too small for his lungs, and his knees feel weak. If Dean touches him now, he will surely break apart. 

"I do not want to come over there," Castiel admits in a rasp, blinking hard. 

Dean huffs. "Well, that's just too damn bad." 

And, with that, Dean marches away from his little brother—who is staring at the overcast like he's picking shapes out of the clouds, grinning up at them, though they're not amusing in any way—and he collides into Castiel without hesitation. It's a hug like they've shared many times, but Castiel does—as predicted—break apart because of it. 

He sags almost instantly, all the fight going out of him as he hugs Dean back, just as tight as he's being held now. The idea of refusing such a thing is ludicrous. He's always been eager for Dean's everything, whether it is his voice or touch or simple continued existence. He does not cry, but he feels like he could, and his heart is doing a peculiar squeezing thing that it perhaps should not be able to do in Heaven. But alas. 

"You needn't indulge me, Dean," Castiel says into Dean's shoulder, holding on despite his words. He has to tell him this because there's the chance that Dean  _ might  _ be indulging him. 

"Dude, you're killing the mood," Dean mutters in his ear, huffing a laugh. "You're so fucking stupid, you know that? You stupid,  _ stupid  _ son of a bitch." 

"Dean," Castiel murmurs warily, forcing himself to extract his arms away from Dean, leaning back. He tries to step away, but Dean is not letting him, sliding his hands into Castiel's trenchcoat to grab his hips and hold on. 

"No, shut up." Dean shakes his head, back to being serious again. "If an angel can be gay—" 

"Technically—" 

"Cas, shut the fuck up and  _ listen.  _ Jesus Christ. If an angel can be gay, or whatever the fuck you wanna be called, then Dean Winchester can like boobs  _ and  _ dicks. Maybe he doesn't get to be happy on earth—fine, whatever—but that doesn't mean he can't in Heaven. That's kinda the point. And you're a part of that happiness, Cas. So, unless you're gonna take it all back and break my very fragile heart, then we're just gonna have to be happy and in love." 

"I—" Castiel stops, swallowing thickly. Dean is being entirely  _ serious,  _ and it's making that swell of hope he's squashed for so long flare to life. There's no chance of smothering it now. "I would not break your very fragile heart, Dean." 

"Promise?" Dean checks, raising his eyebrows, looking at Castiel patiently. 

"I promise," Castiel says dutifully. He feels hot all over and scared but also like he's flying. It's very hard to make sense of. 

Dean bobs his head and clears his throat. "Good. Just, uh, remember that when we figure ourselves out. Gotta be honest, Cas, I don't know the first thing about how to fuck a guy." 

"We need not have sex," Castiel tells him instantly, utterly serious about it. 

"If you think I'm gonna spend the rest of eternity without sex, you're crazy. Seeing as I've picked you and you picked me, it seems like we'll have to figure it out at some point." Dean makes an expression like he's trying to work out the mechanics, which is endearing. A beat later, he blinks. "Well, I mean, if  _ you  _ don't want to have—" 

"I want," Castiel interrupts simply. 

Dean has the  _ gall  _ to blush, as if he's not the one who brought it up. "Oh. Yeah, okay. We'll, uh, cross that bridge when we come to it. Should be fine." 

"Should be," Castiel repeats in amusement, trying very hard not to smile. 

It does not surprise him that Dean jumps to sexual relations very first thing. It is, in major part, how he differentiates romance from regular bonds. For him, loving can easily be boiled down to brotherhood and family because it is so very important to him. As much as Castiel never really wanted to be seen as a brother, he could always make sense of why Dean labelled it as that. Sex and romantic intimacy separates from that and gives it new meaning. 

Castiel decides it is best not to mention that he already knows the mechanics because he is—as much as he is not—a gay angel who had access to the internet. He remembers the first time he ever found out about intimate relations between two men and realized that he yearned for something similar with Dean. It was, sadly, a realization he had many,  _ many  _ years ago. One he dealt with on his own. To learn that he did not have to all that time is simultaneously a relief and a tragedy. 

"Hey, you should probably meet my dad, huh? That'll be a riot," Dean declares, a little rebellious glint of amusement lighting in his eye. He winks at Castiel, all smiles and reckless joy. "You think he'll walk me down the aisle when we get married?" 

"No, fuck off,  _ I  _ reserved that right years ago," Sam blurts in offense, not even pretending not to eavesdrop. He looks right at them. "I had to put up with both of your bullshit for over a  _ decade,  _ and you still didn't get your shit together until you both died! If anyone is giving you away, Dean, it's  _ me."  _

Dean cocks his head, laughing a little. "Yeah, alright, fair enough. Jack can be the flower-boy." 

"Dad's gonna go  _ nuts,"  _ Sam muses. 

"What's he gonna do? Kill me?" Dean retorts, looking utterly  _ delighted.  _

"Dean," Castiel says softly. 

"Hmm?" Dean turns to look at him, smiling and happy, at complete ease. 

Castiel sweeps forward with purpose and kisses him. He just...leans in and presses his lips to Dean's, quiet about it, not rushed or demanding. He simply does it. Because if they're going to have sex, they have to start somewhere; because if Dean's serious about this, he's not going to mind; because Castiel has never needed this, but he has always  _ wanted  _ it. He's not even sure if it will be good, but he doesn't care because he's  _ earned  _ this. Just this once, just now, he's allowing himself to think that he deserves better, too. And he's taking it for himself. 

Dean wrenches away a little at first, just a tiny inch, making a small sound of pure surprise, but he quickly comes back before Castiel can spontaneously combust from mortification. Castiel has never kissed anyone sweetly, or gently, but he tries to tone down the ferocity he's always used before because this  _ matters.  _ He wants to cherish it. He wants to get it right. If this is to be their very first kiss, it should be memorable, he's sure. 

It isn't, to begin with. Dean's a little stiff from the shock, and Castiel is trying  _ too  _ hard, and Sam choking from a few steps away isn't really helping matters. But they figure it out. After all, Dean  _ does  _ know how to kiss, and in some ways, it feels like they were meant for this. 

Dean slides his hands further into Castiel's trenchcoat, dipping into his suit jacket, drawing him in by the small of his back, and he seems like he's actually giving this an effort—either out of obligation, or to see if he'll like it, but Castiel isn't complaining either way. With a small shuffle of hands and feet, they press in close and click into place, the kiss unfurling into something  _ just right.  _ The way their mouths connect and slide together, warm and soft and earnest, feels like home. Everything about this moment, about  _ them,  _ feels inevitable. Like they would always end up here. Free will and destiny colliding in beautiful sparks, a story they ripped up and wrote on their own, family and love and everything they've ever needed settling between them like it was always there. 

Maybe it was. 

Castiel eventually stops trying so hard because he figures it out. Dean is far from shocked anymore. They're kissing now with intent, with  _ desire,  _ and it's unfair how good it is. They should have had this in life as well as in death; they deserved this, Castiel is sure. But it's okay, because they are free to have it now, because it's perfect as is. 

It's him who has to break the kiss, and he do so  _ only  _ because Dean's fingers have started clawing at his back in a futile attempt to get them even closer. He's mindless about it, like he can't help it, and Castiel is very sure that it would have only led to something inappropriate. Sam  _ is  _ here, and Castiel respects his friend enough to not go too far. He's not happy about it, sure, but he does stop. 

Dean seems equally unhappy, inching closer still and trying to chase Castiel's lips as if he's abruptly become insatiable after one kiss. If Castiel had known, he would have found some way to kiss Dean years ago. In any case, Castiel lets their heads rest together, suddenly very aware that they're both breathing a little harder than they should be. That ended up being more intense than either of them were anticipating, but years of yearning would do that to anyone, Castiel suspects. 

Reciprocation, as it turns out, is a glorious thing. 

"We should all go," Castiel rumbles, vaguely surprised by how thick his voice sounds. 

Dean makes a small sound. "We should, ah, do that again. Like all the time. Right now, preferably." 

"Not right now," Castiel insists, pulling back with tremendous effort. "People will want to see you both. Bobby, Rufus, Mary, John, Ellen, Jo, Charlie, Kevin. You have family to reunite with." 

"Right, right, but...later," Dean says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively because he is ridiculous. 

Castiel's lips curl up. "Later." 

"I  _ knew  _ you were in love with him," Sam mutters with relish the moment Dean turns away with a small nod. "I just  _ knew  _ it! I never asked because of obvious reasons, but I swear I knew it." 

"Ah, the final question is answered," Dean declares grandly, sweeping out a hand with a sarcastic smile. "Is Dean Winchester  _ really  _ terrible enough to corrupt an angel? As it turns out, yes, yes he is!" 

"You did not corrupt me," Castiel informs him seriously, eyebrows furrowing. "You changed me."

Dean glances over at him, face softening just a bit, but he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Ah, dude, don't start being a fucking sap all the time. It'll give me indigestion." 

"You cannot get indigestion in Heaven, Dean."

"Then explain what the  _ fuck  _ happens to my chest whenever you say shit like that." 

"I believe that has something to do with your heart, you idiot," Sam says, snorting quietly as he crosses his arms. "You're  _ both  _ idiots. How did it take this long for this to happen?" 

"I still do not know  _ why _ it happened," Castiel admits softly, smiling small and pleased as he looks down at his shoes. He is far too happy, so happy that it outweighs the joy he felt in confessing his love before the Empty took him. 

Fingers slide across his jaw, and Dean is suddenly there, looking unbearably tender and staring at Castiel with such fondness that it might smother them both. He kisses Castiel again, quick and short, pulling back to say, "It happened because, sometimes, good things  _ do."  _

"Not in my experience," Castiel says honestly.

"You don't think you deserve to be loved," Dean tells him, soft and quiet and private, "but you do, Cas. You always fucking have been." 

"Thank you," Castiel breathes out, closing his eyes as something in him smoothes over and settles. 

"Thank  _ you,"  _ Dean repeats back, almost forceful about it, then he kisses Castiel again because apparently he really does like doing that. It's a little bit longer than the last, but still short compared to the first, and it's as perfect as every single one so far has been and every single one after will likely be. When Dean pulls back, he smiles. "Let's go home." 

And so, they do. Because home is with family, with each other, and they never have to leave it again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos and comment if you like. This was all just cathartic, and I'd like to be more cheerful and uppity in my end notes, but I'm very tired tbh. 
> 
> Ta. 
> 
> -sobs


End file.
